If you want to see the world’s largest collection of Mother Nature’s natural arches, go to Arches National Park in Utah. It’s an easy one. It’s right in the park’s name. Be sure to arrive early and have your day pass reservation because it is crowded! Do not under any circumstances go to see the second largest collection of natural arches in the McInnis National Conservation Area adjacent to the Colorado National Monument. Do not be fooled by the New York Times “Best Places to Go” endorsement or the happy faces on the spiffy brochure showing father and son standing atop the famous Rattlesnake Arch in Rattlesnake Canyon. Trust us, you won’t be smiling.
We visited Arches NP in 2019 in Betty, our Class A hand-me-down. With no tow vehicle, timed entry, and massive crowds, the ranger suggested we immediately drive to the furthest point in the park as that would be the only parking to accommodate her. We hiked the Double O, which was a grand payoff with a dramatic meltdown along the way. As the only arch we would get close to that day, we’re now suckers for any arch hike anywhere, after being Betty-blocked at the motherlode.
The glossy brochure touted 35 natural arches all within a mile of one another. To get there you could do a 15 1/2 mile hike, or you could take the shortcut – an access road into the McIniss wilderness right off the main road through the Monument. It suggested taking a 4WD vehicle, but unbelievably, it’s not required.
We are pretty capable of leaving the pavement behind in our F-250 FX4. Granted, it’s a little large for some of the tighter trails, but it is high clearance with most of the off-road bells and whistles. Jazzed to see Rattlesnake Arch and friends, we turned off the paved road into the McInnis wilderness on a dirt road that was advertised as 30 minutes and suitable for a Toyota Camry.
We want to see that Camry. Ten miles in we stopped the truck at a 15 inch rock drop that looked like it at been staged for a Jeep Rubicon commercial. We contemplated dropping off the mini-cliff and then contemplated a ten mile walk back to the main road to summon an off-road tow truck. Sheri, who had been smashed about the cabin for the past hour anyway, refused to get back in the truck. If we were going to see the stupid arch, it would be on foot from here.
When you are deep off-road and can go no further, you just move the truck out of the way as best you can in the unlikely event that any other sole is coming that way, eat lunch, lock the doors, and hike off. The brochure that we held in our grubby hands had a map of sort. We figured we had somewhere between 2 and 20 miles left to go. It wasn’t a very good brochure map.
There is something amazingly beautiful about being alone deep in the wilderness. The canyons and rock structures were every bit as impressive as anything we had seen in any number of National Parks, like Zion or Bryce Canyon but we were its only audience. At some point in our travels we shifted to only wanting to be in places that were crowd-free. It’s selfish we guess, but crowds and nature just don’t mix. The best places are the loneliest ones.
Fortunately for us, the actual distance to the arches turned out to be 5 miles roundtrip. The arches were hidden without a sign or marker to guide us. We found three of the 35, including the eponymous Rattlesnake Arch. The hike proved to be even longer for Sheri who back-hiked half of the off-road portion to avoid more motion sickness while Eric rock crawled the truck at a walking pace. An F-250 is no Bronco with oversized off-road tires and we know that, but we just can’t figure out how to get all of camping stuff into a Jeep-sized vehicle. If only we had that Camry.
It will be a long time, maybe forever, before Sheri rock crawls again. Sometimes it is enough to check the box. It’s not a lifestyle we intend to pursue. Shaken but not broken, we motored around Rimrock Drive back in the National Monument. The windingly beautiful, perfectly paved 23 mile road had been put in by hand pick and axe by the FDR’s New Deal Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) boys in the 30’s. 220 Local Area Men (LEMs) skilled in carpentry, masonry and construction built the roads, trails, buildings and comfort station we are using in Loop C of the Saddlehorn Campground, which is a National Historic Landmark. We are ready to sign the “bring back the CCC” petition. As unfathomable as the surrounding landscape appears, it is equally mystifying how 220 men could have cut 23-mile Rimrock Road and all of the infrastructure of the Monument through granite and sandstone by hand. Is AI the CCC of the modern era? Will it leave any beautiful National Parks and Monuments behind?
Back at camp we lamented how quickly our time at the Monument had passed. On a lark we checked for availability to stay another night. No luck, but the site next to us which had been taken off the reservation list for maintenance was back in the rotation. We grabbed it for a few more days.
Out of food, laundry, and showers, we celebrated the opportunity to spend a little more time in the Monument. The weather had turned mild and the wind had calmed. With a reservation pending in our site, we moved camp 100 feet to our right despite a good hunch that no one was showing up (they didn’t). It’s a good thing Colorado Monument does it right and keeps half the sites first-come first-serve. Reservation faking is rampant. In today’s post-COVID world people pick up reservations on the chance that they will use them and write off the $20 holding cost as just the cost of doing business. It’s sad, and a really poor use of limited resources.
Out of the McKinnis Wilderness and off the Rimrock Road, we settled in for a last supper made from a can of tuna fish, a can of diced tomatoes, a half block of cream cheese and a half full can of crispy onions. Delish! Time to play Let’s go to Town.
